Stephenie Meyer - The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner

Chicken as I was, this didn’t fly with me. “Clubs don’t work that way.”

He nodded, his expression unclear. “Okay, we’ll think about it as we go.”

I didn’t think he really meant it.

“Stay in the trees, track me from above, ’kay?” he said.

“Okay.”

He headed back toward the log cabin, moving fast. I followed through the branches, most of them so close-packed that I only rarely had to really leap from one tree to another. I kept my movements as small as possible, hoping that the bending of the boughs under my weight would just look like wind. It was a breezy night, which would help. It was cold for summer, not that the temperature bothered me.

Diego caught Riley’s scent outside the house without trouble and then loped after it quickly while I trailed several yards back and about a hundred yards north, higher on the slope than he was. When the trees were really thick, he’d rustle a trunk now and again so I wouldn’t lose him.

We kept on, with him running and me impersonating a flying squirrel, for only fifteen minutes or so before I saw Diego slow down. We must have been getting close. I moved higher in the branches, looking for a tree with a good view. I scaled one that towered over its neighbors, and scanned the scene.

Less than half a mile away was a large gap in the trees, an open field that covered several acres. Near the center of the space, closer to the trees on its east side, was what looked like an oversized gingerbread house. Painted bright pink, green, and white, it was elaborate to the point of ridiculousness, with fancy trim and finials on every conceivable edge. It was the kind of thing I would have laughed at in a more relaxed situation.

Riley was nowhere in sight, but Diego had come to a complete stop below, so I assumed this was the end point of our pursuit. Maybe this was the replacement house Riley was preparing for when the big log cabin crumbled. Except that it was smaller than any of the other houses we’d stayed in, and it didn’t look like it had a basement. And it was even farther away from Seattle than the last one.

Diego looked up at me, and I signaled for him to join me. He nodded and retraced his trail a little ways. Then he made an enormous leap—I wondered if I could have jumped that high, even as young and strong as I was—and caught a branch about halfway up the closest tree. Unless someone was being extraordinarily vigilant, no one ever would have noticed that Diego’d made a side trip off his path. Even still, he jumped around in the treetops, making sure his trail did not lead directly to mine.

When he finally decided it was safe to join me, he took my hand right away. Silently, I nodded toward the gingerbread house. One corner of his mouth twitched.

Simultaneously we started edging toward the east side of the house, keeping high up in the trees. We got as close as we dared—leaving a few trees as cover between the house and ourselves—and then sat silently, listening.

The breeze turned helpfully gentle, and we could hear something. Strange little brushing, ticking sounds. At first I didn’t recognize what I was hearing, but then Diego twitched another little smile, puckered his lips, and silently kissed the air in my direction.

Kissing didn’t sound the same with vampires as it did with humans. No soft, fleshy, liquid-filled cells to squish against each other. Just stone lips, no give. I had heard one kiss between vampires before—Diego’s touch to my lips last night—but I never would have made the connection. It was so far from what I’d expected to find here.

This knowledge spun everything around in my head. I had assumed Riley was going to see her , whether to receive instructions or bring her new recruits, I didn’t know. But I had never imagined stumbling across some kind of… love nest. How could Riley kiss her ? I shuddered and glanced at Diego. He looked faintly horrified, too, but he shrugged.

I thought back to that last night of humanity, flinching as I remembered the vivid burning. I tried to recall the moments just before that, through all the fuzziness…. First there was the creeping fear that had built as Riley pulled up to the dark house, the feeling of safety I’d had in the bright burger joint dissolving entirely. I was holding back, edging away, and then he’d grabbed my arm with a steel grip and yanked me out of the car like I was a doll, weightless. Terror and disbelief as he’d leaped the ten yards to the door. Terror and then pain leaving no room for disbelief as he broke my arm dragging me through the door into the black house. And then the voice.

As I focused on the memory, I could hear it again. High and singsong, like a little girl’s, but grouchy. A child throwing a tantrum.

I remembered what she’d said. “Why did you even bring this one? It’s too small.” Something close to that, I thought. The words might not be exactly right, but that was the meaning.

I was sure Riley had sounded eager to please when he answered, afraid of disappointing. “But she’s another body. Another distraction, at least.”

I think I’d whimpered then, and he’d shaken me painfully, but he hadn’t spoken to me again. It was like I was a dog, not a person.

“This whole night has been a waste,” the child’s voice had complained. “I’ve killed them all. Ugh!”

I remembered that the house had shuddered then, as if a car had collided with the frame. I realized now that she’d probably just kicked something in frustration.

“Fine. I guess even a little one is better than nothing, if this is the best you can do. And I’m so full now I should be able to stop.”

Riley’s hard fingers had disappeared then and left me alone with the voice. I’d been too panicked at that point to make a sound. I’d just closed my eyes, though I was already totally blind in the darkness. I didn’t scream until something cut into my neck, burning like a blade coated in acid.

I cringed back from the memory, trying to push the next part from my mind. Instead I concentrated on that short conversation. She hadn’t sounded like she was talking to her lover or even her friend. More like she was talking to an employee. One she didn’t like much and might fire soon.

But the strange vampire kissing sounds continued. Someone sighed in contentment.

I frowned at Diego. This exchange didn’t tell us much. How long did we need to stay?

He just held his head on the side, listening carefully.

And after a few more minutes of patience, the low, romantic sounds were suddenly interrupted.

“How many?”

The voice was muted by distance, but still distinct. And recognizable. High, almost a trill. Like a spoiled young girl.

“Twenty-two,” Riley answered, sounding proud. Diego and I exchanged a sharp glance. There were twenty-two of us, at last count, anyway. They must be talking about us.

“I thought I’d lost two more to the sun, but one of my older kids is… obedient,” Riley continued. There was almost an affectionate sound to his voice when he spoke of Diego as one of his kids . “He has an underground place—he hid himself with the younger one.”

“Are you sure?”

There was a long pause, this time with no sounds of romance. Even from this distance, I thought I could feel some tension.

“Yeah. He’s a good kid, I’m sure.”

Another strained pause. I didn’t understand her question. What did she mean, are you sure ? Did she think he’d heard the story from someone else rather than seeing Diego for himself?

“Twenty-two is good,” she mused, and the tension seemed to dissolve. “How is their behavior developing? Some of them are almost a year old. Do they still follow the normal patterns?”

“Yes,” Riley said. “Everything you told me to do worked flawlessly. They don’t think—they just do what they’ve always done. I can always distract them with thirst. It keeps them under control.”